Trouble On The Ground
by Sweet Misa
Summary: Holding onto the secret of Sherlock's not-real-suicide is driving Molly Hooper mad. Mad enough to accept a trip to the States with her absentee older sister on board a not so famous and perhaps not so safe airline called MJN. The only saving grace of Molly's trip is Martin Crieff, an anxious captain that makes Molly seem to forget all her trouble on the ground. Martin/Molly
1. Come Fly With Me

**Author's Note:** I don't own _Sherlock_ or _Cabin Pressure_. Not that clever. The clever ones are John Finnemore, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. The only reason I wrote this was because I just LOVE the idea of Martin and Molly as a couple (suppose that's a spoiler in some sense). It started off on a whim and then became something of an uncontrollable fixation of mine. The story was just so darn cute I had to keep writing it. So here is the first chapter of what I hope will be something so sickingly sweet you might just get a cavity reading it.

Chapter One: Come Fly With Me

It had been a few months since Sherlock had left – died – committed suicide.

Molly had to get it right someday. In her mind she kept repeating Sherlock was dead so many times she started to have tears running down her cheeks at work. Everyone seemed concerned with the young pathologist's state of well-being. She had kept trying to convince herself she was fine, but in truth Molly Hooper didn't like keeping the secret. She had helped Sherlock fake his death because he needed her.

Seeing everyone fall to pieces over the suicide – fake suicide – of the genius detective was causing her to feel extremely guilty. The last time she had seen Sherlock he had told her she was one of the only people to know. That she had to keep this secret until he returned. He left then. For parts unknown to try and make sure Moriarty didn't have anyone left to hunt him down or hurt the people he cared for.

"Oh Molly, Miss Molly." The morgue worker was bundling up getting ready to leave the hospital when she heard the boastful sound of a voice she hadn't heard in so very long. She turned to see the perfection that was her sister, Tish Monroe stalking toward her with a huge smile and a heavy long lensed camera swinging from her neck. "Smile, love." Molly was blinded by the flash of the camera before she could say a word.

"Tish?" Molly rubbed her eyes as the woman swung her arms around her. The young woman shuttered at the embrace. She was tired of these kinds of embraces, but soon realized the hug was one of genuine happiness, not comforting. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't stop by to see my little sister?" Blonde, beautiful and busty Tish was the older of the two Hooper sisters. She was everything Molly wasn't, outgoing, street smart, and lucky. She was a perfect woman with a near perfect life.

"Well – we – um . . . haven't seen each other in a very long time." The mumbling that came from the thin lips of the younger Hooper was rushed. Tish laid a big wet red kiss on her sister's cheek. Molly smeared the lipstick across her cheek with a rub.

"Oh, you are worse than Alexis, little sister." Tish licked her thumb and rubbed the lipstick away. "You know she's almost four now. Loves horses and singing at the top of her lungs." Molly hadn't seen her sister or her niece in some time. She hadn't gone to family functions because she didn't seem to fit in. Her mother was a widow now with an active social life. Tish had her doctor husband and doe eyed little girl. Molly Hooper had dead people and Sherlock Holmes. Now she didn't even have her consulting detective anymore. Her eyes lingered on Tish waiting for the reasoning upon her sudden visit. "Lots has been happening."

"Here too." Her voice was soft. She didn't want to talk about Sherlock, but she knew that had to be the reason. Tish took a step back giving Molly a very good sense of concern on her face.

"I know you really cared about him, Molls." Molls. She couldn't remember the last time someone had called her that. Molly folded her arms across her chest watching as Tish fiddled with her camera. She raised it up and took another blinding photo.

"Why are you here, Tish? Not that I don't appreciate the visit, but it's been quite a while. Since Da." Her father's passing had left Molly in a rut. Back then Molly had thrown herself in her work, began working with Sherlock, trading one important man in her life for another. Sherlock had been there for her when she had needed him most, perhaps Tish was meaning to replace Sherlock.

"I've gotten concerned phone calls." Oh no. "A woman named Mrs. Hudson," Damn that land lady. That sweet woman with her big worried eyes and attempts to sweet talk her into seeing family. She should've seen this coming when Sherlock and John's landlady had offhandedly reminded her of her sister in Fitton. "And your boss here seemed to think you're being quite depressed since . . . well . . ." Tish didn't want to say it and neither did Molly.

The young woman shifted slightly. She knew she had been looking sad, but it wasn't because he had died. He hadn't died. That was the point; the secret was too heavy a burden for one tiny mortician to bear. It was because she was worrying about him every second now, wondering if he was okay if Moriarty was coming back to try and harm him again. She wanted him to be safe, to be careful and not careless. She had out right told him that. He had made her that promise telling her to do the same. Molly had wanted to read some romance in his statements however there was nothing to read. He had merely counted on her. That was all she was there for, to count. And so she counted when he needed her most.

"So," Tish broke into a smile. "I've decided to take you along for a trip."

"What?!" Molly took a step back. Trips with Tish were bound for disasters. She could recall handfuls of vacations Tish had claimed would benefit Molly and bring her back to life. Sun burns, bad dates, animal attacks, and unredeemable weather were always the results of these "vacations". "No, Tish, please."

"Come fly with me," Tish stalked forward in a very soulful singing voice. Molly shook her head, closed her eyes, and covered her ears.

"No." She felt like a four year old which would make her sister the nine year old that liked to wrestle her to the ground until she submitted to her ways.

"Let's fly. Let's fly away." Tish pried her sister's hands off her ears allowing Molly to open her eyes. Tish's face was round, flush, and full of honest intentions. "Only a week in the States. The capital in fact. It'll be fun."

"You always say that." Molly whimpered pouting her lip. "And then I end up paying for the airfare, the meals, and the –"

"This time it's cheap." Tish insisted. "A work trip. An assignment. About a dozen of photographers are headed there to see that panda bear give birth at the Smithsonian National Zoological Park. And we're taking a small charter flight. The kind Da first started off piloting." Molly made a face. She hated how Tish could make bad things sound appealing in the moment.

"That's not fair." Molly insisted fiddling with the buttons of her coat. "Tempting me with furry critters. Baby furry cute things." Tish only smiled at her triumph hooking her arm with Molly. "What's the name of the company we're flying?" Being the daughter of a pilot the young woman knew some things about certain air companies, which ones were safer than others.

"MJN Air. Affordable according to an anonymous source. And safe. Their web site is a real kick." Molly should have asked her sister as they left the hospital more, but she wanted to relax her mind. Besides MJN sounded like a nice bunch of letters to fly on.

* * *

There were around a dozen other photographers piling onto the plane. Tish had stated that they were all freelance photographers pitching in to get the best photos they could. Molly knew they'd be civil on the plane. Tish had brought her on various freelance trips, one to Australia to see a protest, one to Africa to snap photos at wild animals. Every time the plane hit soil it was everyone for themselves. She was just glad the pushing and shoving wouldn't begin for a few hours. When money was involved people could get real nasty.

Molly swallowed trying not to let out a whimper. She hated the confined space that was awaiting her. Tish tugged on her with a large amount of force. The younger woman nearly tripped over her own feet. Once plans had been made to go on this week long trip to the states, the elder Hooper sister had made herself a needed accessory in Molly's flat hindering every decision the woman was to make on her choice of travel wear.

"No, no, Molly," She had snatched the faded pink ruffled blouse from the pathologist's hand tossing it across the room. "Too cutesy. You need some sex appeal. Some real honest to goodness sex appeal. Where is that dress I got you for your birthday? Was it a few years ago?" Molly had watched her sister lurking about, rummaging through her closest as the young woman had nibbled on her lip trying to sort out other clothing articles to pack.

The dress in question was stuffed in a bag within a box within another bag on the corner of the top shelf of Molly Hooper's hall way closest off the kitchen. The dress she had worn last Christmas to 221B Baker Street. She knew her sister always had good taste so she had finally decided to break out the dress, however the results she got were mixed from absolutely stunned to harsh criticism. After Sherlock's absence, Molly couldn't bear to look at the thing anymore let alone wear it.

"You haven't lost it have you?" Tish raised a slender blonde brow. Molly only nibbled her lip and turned her head. "You have! You've lost that beautiful thing! Oh Molly it would have been perfect for you. Get you out there and noticed."

"What if I don't want to be noticed, Tish?" Her voice was so soft someone who didn't know Molly liked to talk quiet and sweet like wouldn't have been listening clearly, but Molly's older sister heard her. "What if I just want to be me? Not over the top or anything like that. I just want to be plain old silly boring Molly Hooper. Same boring job. Same boring life. Same boring kitty." Her brown faced cat seemed to purr on cue crawling out from a pile of abandoned clothing. "Sorry Toby." Tish only smiled looking sincere.

"I just want you to be happy, Molls." The brunette woman went to open her mouth, but a slender white finger snapped onto it. "And don't tell me you are because you aren't. I'm your sister, Molly. Despite not seeing you for some time I still know when you aren't exactly . . . well . . . brilliant. You aren't brilliant, sweetie. And I just want you to feel absolutely amazing. I want you to feel like sunshine is all around you. That everything is right with you."

It was then that Molly saw it. She didn't know why she didn't see that slight crease in her sister's face before. The wrinkled worried line wasn't for the younger Hooper, but Tish was worried for herself. She needed this trip more than Molly. It was always that way. Whenever something was wrong with Tish she would pull Molly into a trip somewhere, just to get away from it all. Take a well needed step back. Molly only smiled at her sister folding her arms and giving in without questions. Molly was good that way. She didn't ask too many questions. She'd let her sister have her secrets until they needed to be set free. Maybe her and Viggo had had a fight. She remembered they did that sort of thing a lot. Molly promised herself she'd to be there for her sister.

So she wore red. She hated the bright fire engine red dress that exposed her shoulders. It was form fitting and made her look like a demented pirate wrench. Molly swore the only reason Tish had fitted her with the thing was to make her small breasts look a bit larger. She wore a brown wool coat over it to hide any curves she had; only being able to get away with it only because it was freezing out. She had on a black and white checkered scarf that matched her sister's clothing. Molly could barely walk in the shoes Tish had dug out from her closest.

"Come on," Tish hissed pulling the young woman toward the stairs of the plane. "Hurry up. They aren't going to wait for us. Well . . . they might. We're looking quite fantastic this morning if I may say so myself." Tish smoothed out her black mini letting her long lovely legs be the star of her ensemble. Tish's coat was high collared and ebony exposing a bit of her neck and most of her cleavage in the low cut top white top.

"I bought these shoes, years ago. They barely fit." Molly was dreading not tossing them out last year. Her feet hated her for the decision.

"No time for complaining," Tish was forcing her forward a bit. "On the plane, Miss Hooper." Molly's eyes widened as she bumped into a dark haired woman who's eyes looked surprisingly cruel. Molly just sucked on her lip and ducked her head.

There was going to be a lot of regret after this trip was over. Molly could sense it, but the young woman merely straightened herself up, took the necessary steps up into the aeroplane, and gave a small nod to the overzealous steward before finding her seat.

"Are you really taking pictures of panda bears?" The steward had Tish's ear. It wasn't a hard thing to snatch onto. The blonde Hooper was always happy to chat up strangers especially the ones who were going to be serving her.

"They get lonely, Molls." Molly remembered her sister's voice when the younger woman had asked why exactly she had spent nearly their whole dinner after the funeral of Glenn Hooper chatting with the hairy waiter. "They need to be assured that we appreciate them." Molly merely sunk into her seat snapping her window shade down.

"Oh," Tish said softly. Molly looked up to see a mocking frown on her sister's face. "No fair. I usually get the window seat." Molly nuzzled her chin against her scarf and collar of her coat.

"Well if you hadn't been so busy chatting the steward up about panda bears you would've gotten it." Tish accepted defeat at the words sinking into her chair.

She unbuttoned her coat shrugging it off before looking to Molly with a tilt to her head. The tiny brunette sighed letting her fingers reveal the horrid red dress. Tish smiled patting her black coat on her lap.

"There," The blonde fiddled with the ruffles on her young sister's dress. "So much better. Not at all like a snow leopard." Molly secretly wished she was a snow leopard. A baby one. With rounded dots on her fur and big blue eyes that needed love. And claws, she couldn't forget the claws, a defense; she needed a defense at the moment. "And now you're thinking about baby snow leopards." Oh, her sister still knew her.

"Just one." Molly grumbled.

"Well at least you aren't thinking about-" Bing Bong. The familiar noise of the cabin address went on. That's usually when it could all sink in for Molly. She'd put on her belt and –

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Oh no. "This is . . . well . . . this is your captain speaking, Martin Crieff." Molly didn't hear the rest, only her sister shouting her name as she flew pass the steward nearly knocking him over as she made her way to the bathroom.

Tears. Right. She was crying. She was crying because of that voice. That smooth, be it not as confidant, voice that reminded her too much of a certain sort of dead consulting detective. He wasn't dead. Molly's tear ducts should have remembered that, but they didn't. They were streaming tears and embarrassing her on board an aeroplane of people, lots and lots of people. And her sister; her sister who hadn't shed a tear in . . . well . . . ever.

The door to the bathroom snapped behind Molly giving a click of the occupied sign for anyone who thought they could bother her to see. She rubbed her eyes glad her sister had been so focused on the dress that she had forgotten to paint her up with makeup. The pathologist held her hand to her chest feeling her heartbeat quicken. It wasn't him. Even Sherlock couldn't hide his confidence that well. The captain had sounded so uncertain of himself and his position that Molly knew, she just knew, it couldn't be him. Sherlock wouldn't fling himself in public right then and there. It would be an idiotic move on his part. So this Captain Crieff just happened to be an airline pilot who just happened to sound like the very person that had just happened to fake his death and use her as an anchor.

All happenstance Molly, The brunette told herself trying to stop herself from hyperventilating. She was scared. Perhaps thinking it was him. Perhaps thinking she might go to prison if they found out. Or more likely terrified that he would end up caught by the people that were following him, threatening John and all the others.

"It's only an airline pilot. Da was an airline pilot. They're thoughtful, caring, and human. Not at all like…" She looked in the fogged mirror repeating it to herself. Warm tears still ran down her cheeks. She sniffed rubbing the tip of her pinkened nose. "You will be fine. This is all going to be fine. Everything is fine, Molly Hooper." A knock came at the door.

"Miss," The steward seemed a bit chirper and a bit concerned. "Are you alright? You ran really fast to the bathroom. It was actually quite brilliant."

"Molly," Tish was talking now. This was getting more embarrassing. "We're taking off soon. And we can't take off with a girl trapped in the toilet. I'm pretty sure that's against protocol."

"Well, actually I'm not certain about that, Ma'am." The steward told her sister. It was all a bit muffled. "Skip! Can we take off with a photographer trapped in the toilet?"

"Actually she's not a photographer. She deals with dead people." Tish always knew what to say. Molly leaned her bum against the sink staring at the door rubbing her eyes. "I'm the photographer." A blaring snap came followed by a long winded wow from the steward.

"You're quite good at that." The steward said. Molly rolled her eyes wondering why her married sister was flirting with the steward on board a cheap charter plane.

"Yes, yes. Let me through." He definitely wasn't Sherlock. His voice was shaking and even as he rapped on the door there was no confidence to him. "Miss, Miss, I'm afraid we can't take off until you have vacated the toilet." Molly sniffed checking her face again. Oh she really did look awful in the bright red dress. "Now. Please?"

He sounded so sweet. Definitely not Sherlock. She had seen him try to act sweet. It didn't sound so sincere. She sighed letting out a breath. She gripped the handle opening it to reveal the source of the sweet Sherlocky tone.

"Oh." Well that was surprising.

He looked a bit like him, but only a bit. With his captain uniform and hat . . . well . . . Molly Hooper thought he looked a bit . . . well . . . lovely. Especially with his complexion, pale, but paler then Sherlock. His hair was the proper color ginger, not too bright, but not too faded. Then there were the eyes, brilliant, brilliant, blue. And he was short! The last proof she needed that this wasn't the supposed dead fake genius come back to haunt her. Sherlock couldn't make himself shorter.

"I'm . . . uh . . ." He cleared his throat a bit. "I'm going to have to ask you to take your seat."

"Oh, right, yes, um," The syllables seemed to blend together as Molly Hooper spoke.

She started to move herself forward; however given her lack of confidence in her shoes, and the wear and tear she had given running in them, she began a backwards tumble. Her right heel snapped off causing Molly to lose her balance falling backwards, back into the toilet. Whether it was on instinct or need she had grabbed the captain for support. Down went both Martin Crieff and Molly Hooper onto the bathroom floor. Martin seemed to land directly on those ruffles. Right between Molly's breasts.

Both of their faces flushed red. Molly wasn't sure if the captain was struggling to get off or if he lingered a bit too long, but eventually they both scrambled up. Martin muttered long stringed apologizes as he helped her. His hand was warm in Molly's hand.

"Ow," Molly winced out as she attempted to stand.

"What? What's wrong? What happened? What?" Captain Crieff asked looking her over. Molly snapped her teeth together feeling the sting.

"My ankle." Molly ran her fingers along her right ankle. Damn. "Oh, it's sprained." She could feel it swelling up. She looked up at the captain who seemed to be very helpful and concerned in that moment. And warm, surprisingly and wonderfully warm. "I . . . um . . ." Blue eyes. Blue eyes. Look at those lovely lovely blue eyes. He is actually concerned! "Ice. Yes ice. To . . .um . . . bring down the . .. um . . . swelling?" Why was that a question? "Yes the swelling . . . in my anklely hurty part of the foot area." Somehow the very knowledgeable about the body morgue worker forgot what words were.

"Right, yes, of course," He seemed breathy in that moment as he looked about. "Yes. I'm so very sorry for this."

"No I am. I ran and then fell and then delayed the flight and you're busy with the flying . . . or the preparing to fly because we aren't in the air yet and that is my fault and I should be saying sorry, so, I'm very sorry, Captain." Her face was hot. Molly imagined it was red too.

"Molly!" Tish was after her soon crowding the hallway. She looked down at the swollen ankle. "My word! What has he done to you? My poor little sister!"

"It was an . . ." Martin stammered.

"Accident!" Molly shouted. "An accident. Just need ice. No fusing or asking silly questions. Just ice and my seat and flying. Well . . . Captain Crieff will be doing the flying, not me. Especially with a sprained ankle." She looked to the captain with a smile who seemed to return it.

"Yes, well, Arthur, will, um, get you ice for that." Captain Crieff said once more before turning to head off to the flight deck. He then turned again to address Molly with creased brows. "And I really am-"

"Sorry." Molly assured him chewing her lip. "I know. So am I. Won't happen again, Captain." She noticed then the tiny little twitch in his lip when she called him captain. She liked it.

Arthur, the steward, came around helping her along to her seat with Tish. Molly hobbled a bit catching grumpy faces of fellow passengers. She pressed a small bag of ice cubes on her ankle before Arthur walked away to get himself ready for takeoff. Tish snapped them both in.

"Well, you sure know how to make travelling exciting, Molls." Tish declared grinning like a cat that caught a canary. Molly closed her eyes for a moment hoping to forget the whole incident. "And you were honored with meeting the captain. Young, ginger, and quite handsome."

"Yes," It was a bit of a whisper. "Quite the captain."


	2. Apologizes Over Wine

Chapter Two: Apologies Over Wine

"Of course you like him, Molly." Tish knocked Molly's shoulder a bit in a tease as the plane began to descend. The ice in her bag was warm and melted. Probably due to the fact Tish insisted on talking to Molly about the captain she had taken a fancy in while she wasn't chatting with the steward who was very keen on coming around to inform Tish on bear facts. "I was hoping to steer you towards the steward, but I think I fancy him better for myself." She seemed quite proud of herself for saying that. Then she hit Molly excitedly. "Ooo! We could have a double date! Wouldn't that be lovely, Molls? We haven't double dated in ages."

"Yes, well, that stopped once you got married." Molly attempted to remind her sister of her husband however awful he was, but Tish merely raised a brow and tipped her head. Then Molly realized why Tish seemed so keen on flirting. "Oh, how, how long?"

"Eighteen months." Her sister scratched the finger with the empty ban. Molly wasn't sure why she hadn't noticed it before. "It's more a relief for both of us. Viggo gets his mistress and I get . . . well . . . our daughter." She tried to smile, but Molly knew her sister hated failing especially in relationships. She always made it a point that she had never been dumped before.

"Tish, I'm so – ow!" She leaned forward too much clicking her reddened ankle against her sister's healthy ankle.

"Miss Hooper! Are you alright?!" Arthur came around seeking assurance that the younger of the two sisters was not in pain. "Your ice bag is all swoshy. And not icy anymore. And I really wish I could fix that, but I can't find anymore ice."

"It's fine Arthur." Tish assured him making sure to touch his wrist lightly. She looked up into his eyes almost seductively. Molly chose to undo her window shade in that moment. "She's fine. Look at her. She's glowing."

"Yes, but she's red." Arthur concluded. "Red's not a good color to glow. I know. My mum tells me all the time." Tish snorted a laugh before asking Arthur for more facts on bears.

Molly could have called the trip a disaster in that moment however there was the fact that once she tried to close her eyes she could see him. The sweet captain with the red hair and blue eyes was cemented in Molly Hooper's mind. His uniform may have looked a bit silly, her father had been an airline captain so she was aware that Captain Crieff was not wearing the standard captain's uniform, but still, minus the proper ensemble he was something to keep her from wanting to kill her absentee sister. He was the only good thing of the trip so far. Well maybe the steward was as well. Only because he seemed to be distracting Tish enough so that she wouldn't bug her about the captain.

Molly heard the cabin address go on indicating the plane was landing. Captain Crieff had a little bit of stutter to his tone. Molly seemed to find herself noting how very much unlike Sherlock he was. Tish seemed to watch as the steward walked away. The young woman couldn't understand her sister's taste in men. They went from one extreme to the next. Viggo had been quite a bit older than Tish. He was a smart man with a grand fortune to him however Molly was positive Tish hadn't married him for his money. Her sister never needed money to make her happy. Just a camera and lots of good friends to take pictures of. Arthur didn't seem old. He didn't seem rich. And Molly hated to think of a man she had only just met in such a way, but he didn't seem too bright. Yet Tish's eyes seemed to grow wide whenever he came near.

"Molly," Tish said with a flutter of her lashes as she turned to the woman. A grin crept across her face. "Follow my lead."

"Tish, no." Molly mumbled as the plane began to file out.

"Tish, yes." Her sister mused hooking arms with her sister before they retrieved their bags from the overhanging compartments. Molly didn't squirm. She just gave in. "Just lean on me, sweetie. And I'll get you that captain."

Tish was always trying to be too helpful when it came to her sister's love life. In grammar school the older Hooper had declared that her sister had a massive crush on Tommy Straver causing the brunette pony tailed child to be teased for weeks because she liked a boy. Boys weren't really in with the eight year old crowd, they had cooties. As the years went on Tish would attempt to get the shy Molly Hooper dates. Often double dates with the brothers of Tish's boyfriends were involved. In fact Tish had met her ex-husband, Viggo, while attempting to help Molly with her crush on a professor. That professor happened to be Viggo and well . . . Molly really never wanted her sister's help after that . . . or before that . . . but definitely not after.

The plane was nearly filed out. Arthur was thanking everyone for flying. Molly stumbled about as her sister carefully wrapped her arm around her waist. Molly found walking on two feet very difficult in that moment. Her right ankle was burning. She suspected they would need to go to a hospital which the young doctor was a bit excited about. She liked to see how different hospitals operated. If she told Tish that the woman would call her boring. Molly could see the captain and an older man beside Arthur waiting for the pair of them to exit the plane. They were the only ones left.

"I would like to apologize again for the perversion of the captain, Miss Hooper." The older man concluded with a cheap grin. Her face went a new shade of red as she ducked her chin into the hem of her coat.

"Douglas!" Molly peeked to see Captain Crieff was hot around his collar tugging at it before he cleared his throat. He couldn't seem to look Molly in the eyes as he spoke. "I'm very sorry again, Miss Hooper. I, well, I can, help, if – well – you need, but yes, of course you do. That looks –"

"Sexual harassment."

"What?" Martin's eyes went wide at Tish's very loud, very sure tone.

"You heard me right." Tish went on looking from Martin to the man called Douglas, who Molly assumed was the first officer. "Sexual." Her eyes were on the bright faced Martin. "Harassment." Her eyes narrowed at Douglas. "And injury. She can't walk. We'll have to go to hospital to get her better." Molly dug her fingernails into her sister's shoulders. She wanted to say don't to her, but instead she bit the inside of her cheek and waited for the look. Tish looked to her sister ticking her tongue and shaking her head. "My poor sister has been through so much."

"I'm sure Skip didn't mean to." Arthur piped in. He still sounded so happy. It caused Tish to turn to him. "He just gets all tongue tied around – well – everyone actually." Tish managed a smile while Molly suppressed a giggle. Arthur was definitely different then Viggo.

"Arthur." The captain hissed through clenched teeth.

"Yes, well, as much as these fine young ladies would like to hear more about our captain's inability to communicate properly with the general populace," Douglas started. "I must once again offer our sincere apologies to both you young ladies." He tipped his head forward, but Tish only narrowed her eyes. Douglas was more of Tish's past type however Molly was finding her sister not buying the charm he laid on. "Perhaps you would-" A slender finger met the older man's lip staying his speech.

"Don't attempt to tempt me with cheap gifts or free flights or whatever you're crafting in that silly little mind of yours. You're not the captain. You can't make those very important command decisions." Molly smiled hearing a throat catching gleeful noise coming from beside a stunned Douglas. Martin was beaming, but attempting to hide it in a stern expression when Tish said his name. She pulled her finger from Douglas' lip. "Captain Crieff."

"Yes, Ma'am." His voice only shook at the last syllable.

"My sister is having an awful time." Oh no. "Her ankle is sprained and she can barely get around." Where was this woman going? "This was supposed to be a good trip for her, but now," Tish's eyes went to Molly. The pathologist saw Tish's eyes widen, but she hid her smile. She wanted to have one. Molly could tell that, but her serious face was not going anywhere. "Look at her. She's all broken. You broke my sister."

"And I'm very – mmph-" He mumbled feeling the woman's finger on his lip now. Douglas and Arthur merely watched her work as Molly's face calmed from her embarrassment and changed to what she suspected was pride. Only Tish could walk onto a plane and somehow get the attention and control of two pilots and a steward. Molly suspected if Tish worked hard enough she could fly them back home.

"Stop apologizing." Her brow rose with a small nod. She poked the tip of his nose. "It's very unbecoming of a commander of such a large vessel." Tish straightened up causing Molly to wobble a bit. "What I mean to say is that she deserves a good time right?" She looked to Martin who went to open his mouth, but closed it thinking the woman was to continue. She sighed. "It's a question, Captain."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"She deserves to be happy, correct?"

"Yes." He squeaked out. Molly found herself getting another shade of red. She saw Martin was getting uncomfortable. Empathy was building in Molly Hooper.

"So I won't sue or charge this company with anything."

"What?" Douglas and Martin chimed in together as Tish grinned.

"Because you're going to take us to dinner." The blonde drummed her fingers against the brown wool on her sister's coat. "Paid for and everything. That sounds fair, right? Give us a good time for creating such a painful injury." She motioned toward her sister's ankle. Douglas looked a bit confused. Martin just let his eyes fall to Molly. She had to mouth the word sorry. She saw him swallow before nodding.

"Absolutely brilliant!" Arthur declared. "Where are we going?"

"Arthur I don't think –" Douglas started before Tish cut in.

"Captain and steward, only, thank you." Tish said soundly. "No first officers. I don't think I liked your tone."

Molly saw Martin smile at her sister's words. He had one of the sweetest smiles she had ever seen. Tish went on to Arthur about the time and place for the dinner. She was getting her double date after all. Molly only leaned on her sister grabbing onto their luggage as they exited leaving the three stunned men behind.

"See," Tish said with a smile. "What did I tell you?"

"You didn't need to do that." Molly whispered. "You got them all riled up."

"And wasn't it fun?"

"Well," The young woman sucked on her bottom lip. "Yeah, a bit."

"And we both get what we want."

Molly knew the night would be interesting, but she didn't expect anything to come of it. She just wanted a nice peaceful dinner where nothing awful happened and everything came out the same at the end, though somewhere deep inside Molly Hooper she hoped for excitement. She wanted a bit of fun, maybe even some change in the form of a proud airline captain.

* * *

"You sure you're alright?" They hadn't sat down yet.

He had already asked three times.

"Yes, perfect, th-thank – y-you." She had responded in the same tripping way each time.

Captain Crieff and Molly Hooper were almost at the table for two. Tish had insisted, to Molly's great surprise, horror, and gratitude, that the captain and her would be sitting together without the company of a certain steward and overbearing photographer. Arthur had already waved from across the Italian restaurant in downtown D.C. at the pair. The place was fairly empty being that it was a weekday. Tish looked happy munching on breadsticks as Arthur announced their presence in the restaurant.

"I really am sorry I was late." Martin's hand hovered over her back as Molly used crutches to maneuver to their table. She had gone to the hospital only to check herself out. It was sprained however not incredibly bad. The vacation would give her time to heal. "Douglas was – well – giving me a _very_ hard time." He squeaked out the word very.

"Well he wasn't included." Molly let out. "I bet he's all kinds of jealous."

"You think?" Martin seemed to beam at the thought. Molly could tell the relationship between captain and first officer was tumultuous.

"Yeah, maybe." She tilted her head accidently hitting his shoulder. "Ah, sorry."

He just nodded as he went to pull her seat out for her. She smiled thanking him softly. She sat down as he went around to the other side. He was still in his captain's uniform, but she could tell he had showered. He smelt of cinnamon after shave and cheap hotel soap. Her crutches leaned against the table as the waiter came over asking if they'd like something to drink.

"Oh, can we um," She looked to Martin suddenly as she spoke. "Oh sorry, wait, um, wine? Can you – well – maybe you can't or don't, but – well – drink?" Martin nodded softly.

"Yes, I can. And I do, but not a lot, and not often, but I will, if you – well – only if you want some." She felt something in her chest. Her heart fluttered. She tried to breathe slowly before looking to the waiter who looked amused by their exchange.

"Bottle of merlot. House. Um," She looked to Martin. "Do you – red wine? Like it I mean?"

"I like it. The wine. Red wine." He responded. The waiter proclaimed he'd be back with it.

"Sorry." Molly muttered looking into her purse just so she couldn't look at his face. She felt that if she did he'd somehow see she was flushed and uncertain. Like she was now, only she was hiding it. "I just – you know – you fly. And it's - what? Twelve hours rest in between flights, but I know – well- sometimes people don't drink or want to – heavy machinery – even though it's a while."

"It's fine." Martin puttered out. "It's appreciated. I appreciate you. I mean –" That's when she looked up and saw him sighing. She saw his hands go for his napkin. He was probably worried Tish would bite off his head if he said the wrong thing.

"You know you don't have to worry." There it was, her first full sentence of the night. Their eyes met. Molly thought that was lovely. She quickly looked down thinking herself stupid for not looking at him longer, not memorizing every detail of that gorgeous face. "About Tish I mean. She means well. Just trying to – well – not really sure anymore."

"Arthur?"

"What?" She looked up to see him looking at the table holding the pair. She could have sworn she saw Tish playing footsie with the young man.

"She wanted to go out with Arthur." He seemed incredibly confused.

"Oh – well – she is quite lovely." Molly didn't know why that thought had crept into her head. The one that told her someone in such a powerful position like Martin Crieff couldn't like her, he had to fancy her sister.

"No I didn't mean it – you –" His brow furrowed as he searched for the words. She searched his face. "You're lovely." Her brows knitted together. "No that's not what I-" He swallowed looking down a bit before letting himself look at her again. "Yes it is." He breathed out. "What I mean is that I can't believe anyone would want to go out intentionally with Arthur Shappey." She looked to the table seeing that both of them were smiling.

"Well he is rather sweet." She could see Tish was happy. She hadn't seen her that happy, genuinely happy, in a long while. Not even on her wedding day. "And she needs someone non-confrontational in her life. Bad divorce."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Molly noted as the waiter came back with the wine pouring it out.

The woman needed that wine. So when the waiter was gone she downed it. She told herself it was nerves, but part of her wanted to get a bit loose so she could actually do something daring and bold in front of this sweet pilot. She wanted to be very un Molly in that moment because he was out doing her in awkwardness. She saw Martin only sipped at his wine carefully.

"What are you," He cleared his throat a bit. "Um, getting?"

"Oh, well-" She sucked on her lip peering at the menu trying to shield herself from Martin's eye line for the moment. Only because she felt a smile creeping. She thought this entire thing was both insane and ingenious at the same time. She didn't know whether to slap Tish or hug her later. "The lemon chicken looks nice."

"It does." She practically heard the nervous pilot gulp down his nerves.

"And, you?" Her eyes gazed over him softly as she decided to place her menu down and go for the wine again. It was still half full though her lips and tongue were getting stained red. A half pink lip marking was planted on the glass already from her lipstick. His eyes didn't move from the menu so Molly decided to have a good look at him.

She hadn't expected him to look any cleaner then how he had flying the plane, yet somehow Martin Crieff looked more dapper. His hair was neatly side parted in a soft loop that made Molly want to run her fingers through it. There wasn't a single marking on his jacket. Perhaps he had ironed it. It had been a bit wrinkled when she had last seen the captain. Had he made sure to make himself look the tiniest better for his forced date for fear of another berating by Tish or because . . . he may have genuinely wanted to make a good impression?

"Does that sound good?"

"What?" Oh no. Molly thought looking into his eyes. He'd been speaking and she hadn't heard a word of it. Now he was looking at her with uncertainty and perhaps thinking she was mad. Somehow she became paralyzed when he stared at her like that. "Sorry." She felt a chill come over her. "I, was – thinking. Did you say something?"

"Just that spaghetti and meatballs looked promising." Molly almost giggled at the order thinking it was both adorable and very sweet all at once. "Not good?" He actually seemed to be concerned with his order. His eyes were back on the menu frantically searching for something else. "I could get something else," Now she felt bad because he could see her shoulders shrink and her nose twitch. Maybe he even saw her lips curl inward to suppress the laugh. "It-it is a bit childish I know."

"No, no, it's not that," Her hands were waving now as her brows lifted trying to reassure him she wasn't mocking him. "I was just thinking about your lovely uniform." Molly felt her face go hot when she realized what she was saying. "I wouldn't want you to get it dirty." And what those words meant. She rather liked him in the uniform. She really liked the uniform. She really, really liked that uniform even if it wasn't the standard issued one. She liked the way it looked on him, the way he wore it so proudly.

He peered down at it checking it over before taking the cloth napkin. He snapped it open causing Molly to lean back slightly.

"Sorry." It was a soft tone. Martin then pushed the napkin into his collar as a mock bib. Her eyes lit up when she saw him smile. "I think this should take care of that." She didn't have time to say anything when the waiter came over asking for their orders.

Martin sputtered out his order with a small smile from the waiter. Before Molly could open her mouth the captain took control and told the waiter what Molly wanted as well, the lemon chicken. The young woman gazed over at the man seeing his face was bright red from nerves. Once the waiter was gone Martin started speaking once more.

"I'm very sorry. That was rude of me." He said without pause. "I sh-shouldn't have done that."

"It's fine."

"No," His teeth were together and his lips were closed. He almost looked like he was about to cry. "No, it's not. I see men do it all the time and I thought –"

"It's fine, Martin." Her hand reached out for his. She stroked his warm hand softly. She meant to meet his gaze, but he was staring at their hands and how Molly's hand was on top of his. "At least you didn't order me spaghetti and meatballs too. I happen to be a bit of a messy eater and I also happen to like this dress." Molly motioned to the long sleeved dark blue dress with a pleated knee high skirt. She laughed a bit hoping he would join in. He had a very slow chuckle to him.

There her heart went again, fluttering like a hummingbird.

"I'm sorry I –"

"No more sorrys okay?" Molly was tired of hearing apologizes from both sides of the table. She knew she wouldn't be able to help herself so she had an idea. "Do you like games, Martin?" She heard a hefty sigh come from his mouth. Her eyes went a bit wide thinking she had somehow offended him.

"No, yes, I – yes – games. Games I like." She wasn't sure what he meant to say so she just continued on with her thought.

"I was thinking," She sucked on her lip gazing at the wine glass and the wine bottle atop their table. "What if we drank every time we say sorry?" Oh no. She saw his face. Completely baffled. Probably thinking she was a mad woman once more. "I mean – if I say sorry I would drink and if you said it you would – well – drink," She kept trying to convince him of the idea. "Not a lot mind you. Don't want to get too drunk, but just sip. Like a bit. Small." She nibbled the corner her mouth shifting her eyes downward. "Sorry. I'll shut up now." She felt her fingers leave his hand to fold into her other hand waiting for the silence to end.

"I think you have to drink now, Miss Hooper." Her eyes went up seeing that Martin was in fact smiling as he spoke fairly softly. Her hands trembled as she went for her wine glass taking a sip.

"You can call me Molly, Captain Crieff. Or Martin. I can call you Martin, right? We aren't on an aeroplane anymore." Her teeth clattered against the brim of the glass when she released it from her lips. She placed it gently on the table.

"Martin is fine. It-It's my name. So it's a good name. I mean it's an okay name. It's alright. Martin. Molly is better, but for you. Because that's your name. I wouldn't want to be called Molly, not because I don't like the name. I'm not a Molly because I'm not a girl . . . urm . . . woman. You're a woman. Sorry." He winced and went for his glass. She laughed a bit.

"We are going to be wretched by the night's end." Molly laughed. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

"No!" Martin yelled causing a bit of stir in Molly. "Sorry." His teeth clenched together as he went to pick up the glass he had just put down. Once he was done drinking he started speaking. "What I mean is that your idea is fantastic." He went to open his mouth to say more, but stopped himself.

"What?"

"Nothing." His eyes shifted off her.

"Come on, Martin. What is it?"

"I was going to apologize again." The two looked at each other for a moment before laughing. "For apologizing."

"Oh no. That would be a double drink." Molly thought the words, sorry for being sorry, but didn't say them aloud.

"That would be bad." She saw him smile as he looked at her while talking. "Well, Molly, so you're in the States with your sister, yeah?" Molly nodded at him looking into her wine glass wondering how many times she would need to fill it before she couldn't remember the evening. She already had a bit of a buzz going on. "And you're not a photographer." Her eyes went up to look at Martin wondering how he knew. "Oh I was . . . eavesdropping I guess." He looked down for his apology instead of saying those words. "Your sister said you . . . deal with dead people. What's that like?" Her sister had said that through the door. Molly remembered that now.

"I love it." She sounded too chirper about cutting open the dead. She hated that Martin would see her eyes gleam when she talked about bodies and diseases, but she couldn't help herself. It was very unladylike of her to talk about these things, but it was her passion. She couldn't hide it. "I work in London at St. Bart's. In the morgue. Doing autopsies. Mostly finding out what killed people. Cutting them open and such." She then noticed Martin looked a bit green. "Oh sorry! I always forget that sort of thing is unpleasant to some people. It's just – I'm around people who I work with all the time that I don't remember-"

"You have to drink." Martin said looking to Molly's glass. His face was regaining color.

"Sorry?"

"Two sips now." Molly covered her mouth realizing her mistake. With her two sips her wine was gone.

"Whoops." She giggled a bit. Martin poured more wine in her glass. She noticed he was gaining a bit more confidence as the night went on. "Thank you, Captain Crieff." She saw that little twitch of a smile on his face. She liked it.

"Molly?" She also liked the way he said her name, all breathy and lighthearted.

"Mmm?" She asked feeling her head spin just a tad. The woman often hated being such a lightweight when it came to alcohol. She saw his eyes as he moved to grab the bib from the tucked in the front of his shirt.

"Here." Martin leaned forward dabbing the young woman's chin slightly. He pulled his hand away for a second then went back to rub her chin once more, a bit harder that time. "Sorry if that was –" He then sighed tucking his bib in again before going for his wine glass.

"I'm a big sodding mess aren't I?" Molly rubbed her chin a bit.

"No, you're not." Martin insisted. "Just had a bit of wine on you that's all. No harm."

"Right," She bit her lip peering to Arthur and Tish. They were talking very animatedly. No alcohol was on their table at least from what she could see from this distance. "No harm yet," She ran her fingers through her tight ponytail tangling the edges, feeling the tightness of her hair become a bit loose. "The night's young." She noted with a smile.

"Molly?" He started again. She looked to him feeling a bit more settled into her surroundings though she noted that his presence was still something she wasn't quite settled with yet. "H-how did you know about the twelve hours?"

"Sorry?" She sighed when she realized her mistake. "Bugger." She hissed under her breath. She saw him suppress a laugh before clearing his throat to get more serious. She didn't exactly sip as much as she gulped the wine down. "The what?"

"Twelve hours. How did you know a pilot needs twelve hours rest between flights?"

"Oh!" She smiled feeling suddenly giddy about relating some information to Martin. "My Dad was an airline pilot."

"Really?" He seemed interested. It was very enchanting to see Martin Crieff's eyes light up in a way Molly had never seen before. Almost in the same way Sherlock's eyes would light up when there was a strange body in her morgue.

"Yeah," Molly started feeling like she had been staring at his eyes for far too long. They went to the wine glass. It was almost empty again. "Fifteen years at British Airways. Died two years after he retired."

"My dad's dead too!" He nearly shouted it. Her eyes widened when she looked at him. His face was reddening slowly. "Sorry. Damn." He went for the wine finishing it off. The ginger man decided to pour himself some more as he spoke. "What I meant is that we – um – have something in common."

"Well," Molly said watching him pour the red liquid into the clear glass. "That's the second thing we have in common." Martin looked up at her as if to ask what. Molly Hooper only gave a small meaningful smile. "We also apologize too much." She reached for her wine glass in that moment. "Sorry about your dad." She pressed the glass to her lips.

"Sorry about your dad too." They drank together as the waiter came back with their dinners. He noticed the bottle was almost empty.

"Would you like another bottle of wine? Merlot, right?" Molly looked to Martin nibbling at her lip.

"I think we'll be alright." Martin said. Molly giggled as the waiter walked away.

"I hope so." She really was feeling the buzz now. She needed to eat however her dinner was a bit cold and chewy. Molly just ate looking to Martin every now and then. He rolled his meatballs across his plate a bit. "Is it? Is it a-alright?"

"Hmm?" Martin looked up then back down at his plate. "Oh, yes. Is yours – alright?"

"Oh," She poked her chicken with a fork a bit. "Yes. I – suppose. Yes." She looked back at it again. "Actually no. Not . . . really."

"No. Mine neither." Martin concluded. The pair looked at each other and started laughing. Molly wasn't even sure why they were laughing. Perhaps they both realized they had just lied to each other then flipped it around.

"It's alright though. It's not awful awful."

"Just regular awful." Martin chuckled spinning his fork around the noodles. He ate some. "Cold, but edible."

"Ah, yes." Molly cut into her chicken eating a bit. "But not terrible. Nope. But it's not about the food right?" Martin slurped a noddle into his mouth causing red sauce to dirty up the tip of his nose. "It's about the company. And I very much like my company."

"You do?" He seemed surprised. Molly wondered why. He was absolutely charming. She was the one acting a bit daft.

"Of course!" She declared after she had swallowed a bite of chicken. Molly had enough sense not to talk with her mouth full in that moment. "You're an airline captain. And you're very sweet. And very caring. That can't be said of most people." She casually thought about the consulting detective that may or may not have spent a night or two on her sofa after he had killed himself off. Not like him at all.

"Airdot," Molly looked up when he spoke. He seemed to have sad eyes in that moment. "MJN isn't an airline. GERTI is our only plane."

"That's," She searched for a word. "Adorable." She smiled.

"No, it's not!" Martin became defensive all of a sudden.

"Yes it!" Molly wrapped her fingers around the cloth napkin leaning forward. "Do you want to know why?" She pressed the napkin on the red spot on the captain's nose wiping it away. "Cause you got yourself a dot on your nose." She poked the now empty flesh colored spot on her companion's nose making a booping noise. She started to lean back realizing suddenly that her ankle hurt. Only a bit. She looked down when she sat.

"Doesn't that hurt?" He wondered ready to get up and assist her.

"No actually." She reached for her wine glass. "Doing the trick. Can't. Feel. A thing." She raised it up grinning then looked back at her half eaten chicken. "Probably why this chicken is starting to taste good."

"Sorry," He sighed picking his wine glass up muttering to himself. "Why do I keep doing this?" He gave himself a quick drink. "I just wish your sister thought better of me. I mean, I don't understand why she picked this place."

"Probably cause she didn't want to hurt your pockets too much. We're all in the same place anyway. Again I don't think it matters. She probably wants us all leaving at once." Molly wondered trying to decide if she should give up on her food.

"Well, it would be a bit easier, yeah, but," She saw his eyes go over to her then back at the table Tish and Arthur sat at. "They're gone." Had sat at. Molly looked over at the table.

"Oh," She wondered what her sister was up to. "So they are."

"Molly?" She tilted her head to look at him.

"Yeah?"

"Is your sister," He breathed a bit. She knew he didn't really want to ask the question he had on his mind, but it came out anyway. "Is your sister a good person? F-f-for Arthur, I mean. She won't - ?"

"Tish is," Wow, she really couldn't say much about her sister anymore. She searched for something she could truthfully say about the woman she knew before their dad had died, two years without physical interaction had left Molly baffled on who the woman was. "She is – well – she is." Her fingers circled the rim of her glass. She downed the wine before she said the word. "Sorry." She sighed a bit before going on. "I honestly can tell you – that – she does her best to make everyone happy." That was true. "Even at the cost of her own happiness."

"Well," Martin swallowed. "That's a bit of a relief."

"I don't think you should worry about your friend." She told Martin. "She may seem a bit demanding and a bit controlling, but she gives people what they need. She's got this – " She looked to the ceiling as if searching for the answer. "Sixth sense or something. She can read what people need. She knew I needed a vacation. And I bet she knew you needed some time to yourself."

"But," Martin started. "I'm with you."

"I don't count." She had said those words before.

"I'm sorry." Molly looked at Martin in time to see him drink. He had his napkin in hand leaning forward to dab her eyes. It was only then that she felt the tears. "I'm sorry I make you cry." He leaned back grabbing his wine again.

"It's not," She took a deep breath before blowing her nose into the napkin. "Your fault. You – remind me – of," She tried to find herself a word for what Sherlock Holmes was to her. "Someone I cared for a lot, but," She found her voice dropping a bit. "He's gone now."

"I'm sorry." She looked up to him. Molly smiled for some reason seeing the sadness in his eyes. "What?" He truthfully wanted to know. She started laughing. "What?"

"I'm sorry you have to keep apologizing." They both reached for their wine glasses again. "I'm not going to be able to get back to the hotel, Martin." She looked back at the empty table where her sister had been. "Tish is off with your steward and you're stuck with me."

"I think I got the better deal." Martin said under his breath.

"Thank you." Molly told him.

"For what?" He looked like he really didn't know what he had done for her.

"For tonight. For everything."

"Including spraining your ankle?" He laughed. She joined in feeling herself dizzy in a brilliant way in her chest and head.

"Definitely."

* * *

"I am fantastic, Martin!" Molly was in the cab hitting his shoulder as he shut the door behind him. Her crutches were laid out on the floor. "How can I not be? An airdot captain is helping me into a cab."

"Well, if you're fantastic then I'm," He searched for the word looking to the cabbie. "I'm," He tried again. Molly took that time to lean into him. He then looked at her with a very wide drunken grin. "Brilliant."

They both snorted with laughter. The cabbie asked where they wanted to be. Molly chirped out the name of her hotel. Her head slumped to Martin's shoulder. She looked at his pants noting how smooth they were. She picked at the fibers noting white polyester fabrics on there.

"Molly, what are you doing?" He wondered aloud.

"Shh," She slurred. "I'm deducing." She wiped her finger along the seams of his pants feeling they were ragged, sewn together many times before. Poor airdot captain with cheap fibers on him. She leaned her nose into his collar. The aftershave, while very nice smelling, was splattered in the wrong spots. Normally Martin Crieff didn't wear aftershave. Therefore it was borrowed. And borrowed to make an impression. "I'm brilliant." Molly concluded smiling at her own work.

"Well of course you are." He scratched the crease on his navy dress pants. "Brilliant Molly Hooper. You should say it a lot. You should never stop saying it 'cause it's what you are. Brilliant." She felt their foreheads click together. She blinked hard to keep herself alert.

"Oh, I like being stunningly brilliant." Molly stated. "But you," She turned to Martin. He lazily maneuvered his face to look at her. She squeezed his cheeks together. High cheekbones, like he has. Oh had. She should think about him in the past tense. But she didn't have to because nobody could read her mind. "You're something else, Captain Martin." She let her wine stained teeth shine. "You're like this flying thing that flies aeroplanes. Well. Real well. And I should know. Daughter of an aeroline cap-pee-tan." Her eyes were on his lips, but she couldn't.

Instead Molly Hooper let go of his cheeks and slumped back against the door. Martin blinked hard before clearing his throat. Molly moved to sit up. She found herself far from Martin. Further then she would have liked or hoped for.

"I," He started off his sentence. "I," He started it again blinking. "I want you," Her eyes widened hoping in some strange universe he would plant a kiss on her now. Maybe even take her in the back seat of a cab like in some very poorly written romance novel. The ones she would never tell anyone she self-indulged in. "To know," Darn. "That you are," He looked around. She wondered if he thought the word would fall out of the sky. "Important. You should know that. You are important. You do important work and your sister doesn't overshadow you."

Oh. Molly stared at him for a while taking in the words.

"You may not know it, but you are brilliant. You are brilliant at autopsies. And finding out h-h-how people d-died. You're good at conversation and games. You know how to have a very entertaining time, Molly Hooper." He looked to her with eyes that told her that he understood her pain, even if he didn't. He looked like he did. "You should always know that."

"How," Molly started feeling the coldness of the window against the back of her head. "How many older siblings do you have Martin?" He only smiled.

"Two." Her toes curled when he answered. One side hurt. Maybe the alcohol was wearing off. "I know what it feels like to be left out." She reached for his hand smiling.

"I know." Molly wished she had enough courage to lean in and kiss him. She hadn't drunk enough to do that.

They were at her hotel anyway. Martin shuffled out and around the cab to help her out. He wasn't at his hotel yet. The driver didn't demand anything. He took her crutches out letting Molly lean on them and start to maneuver. Martin was ready at the door to the place for Molly to come through the doors. She thought he was some kind of Godsend. Come to save her from her guilt. She had barely thought of his doppelgänger the whole night.

"Do you-" Want to come inside? She wanted to say it. She really wanted to ask if he'd come up with her, but her mouth couldn't finish the rest. She tried for something safer. "My number?" It wasn't a sentence, but he seemed to understand what she meant to say.

"Of course!" There wasn't even a pause in Martin's breath. He pulled out a very cheap looking phone. Molly typed her number into the mobile device handing it back to him slowly.

"You live in Fitton, then?" She watched him nod.

"Yeah, Fitton, but – oh- you live in –"

"London." She smiled. "That's alright. We can always take a trip to Duxford Air Museum." She saw his eyes go wide then his mouth went dead straight. "I was just thinking because you're a pilot and my Da used to take –"

"No!" He shouted. "I'm - I'm - I'm," She watched the stutter happen waiting for the rest. "Happy. I can't – remember – I usually – that's usually my – I ask girls there."

"Well, it's a bit of a change up then." Molly smiled. He whipped the door open. "Please call me." She usually didn't beg for men to call her. They usually didn't call her all on their own. She really wanted Martin to call. "I'd like for you to –"

"I will most definitely one hundred percent call you, Molly Hooper." Then without warning he leaned forward. He gave her the quickest, most swift peck on the cheek.

"Trusting you." She whispered. He nodded smiling.

"Have a good night Molly."

It was too late to say it. She thought as he went back to his cab.

She already had.


	3. Non Drunk Dialing

**Author's Note:** Thanks for everyone who's read so far :)

Chapter Three: Non Drunk Dialing

Ofpht.

Molly felt her head spinning in circles except she hadn't moved from her position on the bed. The sheets scratchy and smelt like stale popcorn. She twisted herself realizing she was flat on her stomach. She winced. The young woman didn't have time to try and recall the events of the night before. Tish was rolling her on her back.

"That's very dangerous you drunkard." Tish whispered leaning over to look at her little sister. She placed the back of her hand gently on Molly's forehead. "Better sleeping it off. You've been out for a while now. I had to go see the pandas without you." Molly moaned looking at the hotel's digital clock on the night stand. It was very late afternoon.

"I can't." She touched her hand to her head.

"I know, I know, sweetie." Tish sat with a thump on the bed. She stroked Molly's loose hair that cascaded across her shoulders. She was still in the dress, but her hair was no longer in the ponytail. "You had a long night."

"Did Martin -?" She wasn't sure how to end that sentence.

"He dropped you off like a good boy." Tish smiled brushing hair out of Molly's face. "Arthur knew he would. But you were both stupidly drunk. I never would have thought it from you, Miss Prim and Proper." Molly smiled to herself before closing her eyes and squeezing her face into the pillow.

"We were playing a game." Suddenly that sounded wrong.

"Was it that stupid one, Owen used to beg us to play?" Tish seemed to search for the name of her ex-boyfriend's favorite activity next to sex. "I have never."

"No." Molly insisted pushing her lips together. "Just a stupid thing I made up."

"Not going to tell me?" Tish pressed her fingertips into her sister's flat stomach wiggling them about tickling her.

"Stop, Tish." It wasn't a laugh. It was actually a demand. Her sister stopped causing Molly to sigh. "He kept apologizing so I thought if alcohol was involved he might come down a bit." She wrinkled her nose a bit. "And so might I."

"Ah," The older woman moved her fingers through Molly's hair. "Hence stupidly drunk." Tish then stood up heading to her own bed not far from her sister. She plopped on it soundly. "So you remember nothing, then?" Molly turned her head to Tish, clad in dark dress pants and an ivory colored wavy top that scooped down.

"No," Molly almost whispered. "I remember everything." She did. She was surprised how much she remembered. "I – gave him – my number." She saw her sister sit up immediately grinning.

"You idiot!" Tish squealed in wonderment. "That's wonderful! Why didn't you wake up with that news?!" Molly winced at the loud noises. "Ooo, not good, then?"

"Hung over, Tish." She rubbed her temples. Molly looked to her purse on the end table she could see her phone blinking inside. She nearly fell out of the bed reaching it. She winced realizing her ankle was still painfully sprained.

"Did he call already?" Tish wondered as Molly looked at her phone. "I have to give the captain credit. He works quick." It wasn't Martin. It was Lestrande wishing her well on her trip.

"No, not Martin." She liked how his name felt. Even if it was said with disappointment. "Just work."

"So sad." Tish then bit into her lip. Molly noticed this and sighed.

"How was –"

"Brilliant!" She nearly burst at the seams when she spoke. "Absolutely astounding. He's the sweetest person I've ever met, Molly. He just talks and talks about nonsense for hours. Things that are just plain and ordinary. Nothing boring either. He's not boring. Can you believe it, Molly? I'm attracted to a man that isn't dull as dish water." Molly just smiled.

"Good, Tish I'm –"

"And, and," She sounded like a child who had just seen Santa Claus for the first time. She was on her knees beside Molly's bed. "That's not the best part." Molly stared at Tish for a long while. "We had sex."

"Umm," Molly looked at her sister trying to figure out if she was telling the truth. Her sister was never one to lie, but then again her sister was never one to have sex with a man she just met. Then she remembered the conversation she had with Martin. The bits about making people happy seemed to have gone a bit too far right then. "You – you – just met him."

"You thought I was serious." She laughed a bit.

"God, Tish, don't – just – don't do that again." She saw her sister laugh backing against the bed.

"No, we just snogged a bit. Then I sent him off to his hotel."

"Don't break his heart, Tish." Molly let out without thinking. Suddenly Martin's concerns were hers.

"I just hope he doesn't break mine." Her sister's eyes were down on the carpet as she drew circles in the fibers. "I like him a lot Molly. A bit too much and a bit too soon." Molly watched as her sister put her hand to her heart looking at her hung over baby sister. "I've been trying to date since Viggo. He was cheating on me of course. Ever since I got pregnant with Alexis he'd been going around with other women, but I didn't want to see it." She huffed a sigh. "Finally had enough and divorced him, but then I just . . ." She looked to Molly with sad eyes.

"It broke me, Molly. Almost in two. Nobody's been able to get me up and out of the heartbreak, but myself," She then found her smile again. "Then I see Arthur and I think well he looks like he's sweet and I got it right, but he starts in with bear facts and I think, this man isn't real, then I want to see more. Then I get more, and I realize it. Nobody could put this on for this long. He's real. And I let myself smile. First time in a long time. I let him make me smile."

Molly could see her sister was happy. She watched her reach to the table grabbing something. She saw it was a cocktail napkin. It was stained with yellowed splotches as Molly was handed it.

"He wrote that out when I was in the toilet. Told me not to read it until he left." Molly looked at the napkin smoothing out the stains. "That's pineapple juice." She could hear the smile she didn't need to see it.

The note read:

Think you're absolutely brilliant! Know we'll be spending a lot more time together. Hoping to someday go to China to see those panda bears in their natural habitat with you. Did you know panda bears spend twelve to sixteen hours eating bamboo? Wish I could spend that much time eating with you.

His number was written out on the napkin. Molly looked at her sister who was blushing a bit. She gingerly took the napkin from Molly.

"Wow, Tish," She breathed out. "Just, wow." She was actually amazed at how sweet he was. Not to mention how happy her sister was.

"I've never wanted to call someone so much."

"Well, you've said the same thing before." Suddenly Tish was standing up towering over Molly. "But I see you really like him. And he's really liking you too, but you have to, umm, wait. They're on a plane."

"Twelve hours rest Molly." She reminded her sister.

"Yes, but if you call him up," She hated to say this because that meant Martin wouldn't ring her. "He won't be resting." Tish sighed.

"You're right." She plopped herself back on the bed. "Back to square one. Mulling over what kind of bear activities we can do in boring old Fitton."

Molly watched as Tish debated aloud over zoos, both petting and safaris. She was actually surprised as the minutes went by because Tish hadn't asked about Martin again. This thing with Arthur had to be really serious then.

Molly found herself staring at the ceiling for the later part of the day. Tish was chatting about her life at her sister rather than getting much of a response. Molly now knew her sister and niece were living in a small two bedroom flat on the outskirts of Fitton while Viggo was jetting off attempting to start a new business venture with his younger brother in the medical supply field. Tish kept saying India was the place they were looking to settle on. She found out Tish had gotten a bit of money out the divorce and was still debating what to do with it.

"I'd like to buy a magazine." Molly had forgotten Viggo had been quite wealthy. "Start a business venture myself. One where wildlife is featured. And different cultures. Always loved travelling, just never got around to it much after Alexis was born." Tish had always been the more adventurous of the pair. Molly always felt like staying at home, more the sitting down type rather than dashing about like her sister often did on whims. "Da would have liked that, huh. Starting a business venture. He always said I should have stuck with photography instead of business." The younger woman peered over to see her sister was painting her toenails on the bed beside her. "Guess now I can mix the two."

"Mmm, hm." Molly muttered a bit looking at her propped up foot and the empty containers of food at her side. The week was going to go on forever.

"You listening, Molls?" Tish flipped her hair a bit as she looked at the injured woman.

"I am." She peered down at the ratty pjs she had changed into. They were a pale pink with darker hearts along the top and bottom. "Just," Martin was creeping in her head as she looked down at her pale green cellphone. "Thinking."

"Ah," Tish said with a bitter smile. "You really should have gotten his number."

"Think it would have been," That's when the phone buzzed. Molly nearly dropped it with excitement. She could see the unknown number pop up as the text was received. "Worse."

"Is it -?" Molly held up a finger as her sister spoke nudging herself to the edge of the bed abandoning her polish.

The text read:

Hi Molly, it's Martin. The captain of MJN. I just want to say if I did anything unpleasant last night I really didn't mean it. And I hope that you giving me your number was a sign that I didn't do anything too horrid. – MC

Tish may have been saying something in that moment, but Molly was too busy trying to figure out how to respond to him. Her fingers were over the button when she got another text.

And I'm sorry that I'm texting you so late. I was trying to sleep off the hangover. - MC

Then another text followed.

I'm not saying that I regret last night. I REALLY enjoyed your company. I just have to go fly a plane soon. - MC

Molly smiled ready to respond when another text came.

I remember a lot of last night, but the part in the cab I forgot. I hope I wasn't a bother. - MC

Finally Molly decided to quickly text.

Not a bother at all! –MH

She sent it off quickly before typing out the rest of the message.

My sister said you were quite the gentleman. You told me I was brilliant and kissed me on the cheek and everything. – MH

"Are you blushing?" Tish was beside her now poking at Molly's hot face. The young woman swatted her away. "Oh, my little sister fancies the pilot."

"Captain." Molly corrected.

"Right, captain." Tish was just grinning as Molly stared at her phone waiting for an answer with such a strong intensity. "That's not going to-" The phone buzzed lighting up as Molly looked at his answer.

Well you are brilliant. – MC

Took him that long to send that, Molly thought with a smile. She responded promptly.

Hope you remembered you promised to take me to Duxford Air Museum – MH

"Course an airline captain would suggest that for a first date." Molly caught the tail end of her sister's eyes rolling.

"Airdot captain." She suggested with the proper smile on her face. "And I suggested it. Haven't been there in ages." Tish looked at her surprised a bit before Molly shooed her off. "And stop interfering with my conversation. You made it possible, now let me make whatever mistakes I can." The phone buzzed with a response.

We don't have to go to Duxford if you'd prefer a better spot to meet up – MC

I suggested Duxford! We're going! I can't wait XD – MH

She smiled poking at her phone before seeing it buzz again, but this time it wasn't a text. Molly's eyes widened as the phone began to ring.

"Tish!" She said holding her phone up at her sister who had slunk back to her own side of the room. "Calling! He's calling!"

"Well answer it, silly." She could hear the laugh caught in her older sister's throat. Molly taped the phone to respond.

"H-h-hello?"

"Molly?" He sounded a bit horse. She hated that his voice might be hurting, but damn did he sound sexy.

"Hello, se-um – I mean Captain!" Oh no. She had almost called him sexy. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, but Douglas keeps going on about –" She heard a mumbling going on in the background. "Douglas, I'm on the phone with Molly!" She smiled looking to Tish who was now continuing to paint her toe nails.

"I was attempting a panda design." She wiggled her toes. "But it came out blotchy."

"Sorry about him. I'm fine. Thank you for asking. How are you feeling?"

"Good, very good. Very very good." She had to stop blabbering at some point. "Um, well ankle still hurts. Slept off most of the alcohol. Can't say who got more drunk though. Did you really forget from the cab on?"

"Um," His voice trailed a bit. "Yes and no. I wasn't sure if it was proper to . . ." She knew what he was going to say. She also knew neither wanted their current eavesdroppers hearing about the cheek kissing.

"I liked it." She wanted to back track, but the words would exit her mouth. "It was very . . . nice, Martin." Molly would have liked to say she wished he had kissed her on the mouth because she was sure she'd never see him again. Airline pilots tended to be off for long periods of time, but then again Martin Crieff wasn't an airline pilot. He was an airdot captain.

"I think I liked it too." He muttered into the phone. "I did like it very very very much." She was glad. She even nibbled her lip when she heard it.

"Careful," Her sister whispered. "You might turn into a tomato."

"Shhh!" Molly hissed at her sister.

"What?"

"No, sorry, not you, Martin." She waved her hand about as if Martin could see. "I got my own nagging first officer here."

"Oh right, your sister." He laughed a bit. "Arthur keeps going on about her."

"Same here." Molly chewed on the corner of her lip before seeing Tish had her head down peering at her toes. "Are you going somewhere interesting?"

"Adana." Martin said with a sharp swallow. "It's in Turkey."

"Oh." She bit her lip wondering how long he'd be gone for. She had a week with her sister she suddenly didn't want, but it would keep her away from the routine of her life long enough to wait out Martin's trip. She thought Martin liked her. She hoped at the very least, but she knew once he was off he probably would forget about plain old Molly Hooper.

"We're delivering special building material to a man who just moved there from Bristol." Martin pointed out. "He has a construction company."

"Are you coming back to Fitton after?" Molly wondered. Tish lifted her head up mouthing the name of her companion from last night.

"Should be in a week or so." Molly smiled at the words liking the timing.

"Arthur?" It was a hissy little whisper from her sister's mouth.

"Is Arthur coming back too?" The young woman asked with a sigh.

"Oh, yeah. He will be." Molly nodded at her sister hearing the answer. Tish immediately hoped off the bed and went for the bathroom. The younger woman was perplexed, but kept talking. "You know you really don't need to go to Dux-"

"I really love Duxford." Molly insisted. "Why do you think I wouldn't want to go? My dad was a pilot. He took me there all the time."

"Well, I, I," He started stammering before he whispered softly into the phone. "I don't want to make you cry again, Molly." Her heart did that thing again. "Just being me does that to you, but I don't want to cause you any tears. Not ever."

"Absolutely not," She blinked smiling to herself at his concern. "Duxford has very good memories for me. And I'd like to make some new ones as well." She had taken her dad there a few months before he had passed.

When she was younger he'd look at the planes telling her neat little facts. Molly would often go wide eyed at the fascinating information, but towards the end of her cheerful dad's life she'd find herself doing most of the talking. She could practically walk around that museum blindfolded reciting quips on the makes, models, and construction of the aeroplanes and their history.

"I – really?" Martin let his breath out in surprise.

"Really, Captain Crieff." She sighed a bit feeling a half smile coming on. "And I have to warn you, I'm pretty fantastic at identifying the different kinds of planes. That was usually Da's favorite daddy and daughter day trip spot. Probably been there more times than I can even remember." He loved flying so much that even when he was on the ground he wanted to find out everything he could about planes. Martin may have looked like Sherlock a bit, but he certainly reminded her of her dad, except her dad was more cheerful and had loads more confidence. Martin did have his passion though.

"I wish my dad had taken me there. He never liked that I wanted to be a pilot." Martin confided in her. "He was always begging me to get a real job." He sighed a bit. "Just left me his van when he died. Gave Cat and Simon money, but not me, thought I'd waste it on trying to become a pilot." She didn't know what to say then. She was shocked Martin felt comfortable enough to confide in her over the phone. "Sorry, didn't mean to do that. Just – well – your dad sounded really amazing and it just reminded me a bit that my – my dad – never got to see me fly." She wished he was telling this sitting next to her. She would have pulled him into a hug and stroked his gingery hair. She bet it was smooth.

"Don't be sorry. Missing our dads is normal. Especially when they never got to see you do something important." She tried to mull something over in her mind saying the first thing that popped in her head. "My Da always wanted me to get married. Thought I should be like Tish. Find myself a nice bloke and settle down." She sighed a bit. "I became a doctor though. He thought it was nice and I know he was very proud of me, but I think he always wanted to see me enjoy my personal life rather then get caught up in being professional and strict." Molly shrugged realizing she had just done the same thing. She sniffled a bit feeling her eyes begin to cloud thinking about her dad.

"Wonderful," Martin sort of laughed. "I'm not even in front of you and I'm making you cry." Molly laughed a bit feeling Martin's laugh spread into her eardrums and echo through her body and brain. She heard the shower go on remembering her sister had sunk into the bathroom. "And I have to warn you, I'm pret-tay good at identification and interesting facts myself., at least when it comes to aeroplanes."

"Are you challenging me, Captain?" She heard a small crack in his voice when she spoke. Maybe he was getting a bit giddy at the thought of a challenge. "Because I will accept your challenge."

"Duxford then. It's a date?" He wondered aloud. "I mean – that's not what I – it's not what I – I mean it will be fun. Not a – date – though." She felt a bit disappointed at the fact that Martin had back tracked on the idea of the date. She heard a mumble in the background. Martin called to someone reciting pilot lingo that reminded Molly of phone conversations with her dad. "I'm sorry, Molly. We're going to be headed to the airport now."

"Hi Molly!" She heard a chipper voice say in the background. She could almost see Arthur bouncing up and down. "Tell Tish I said hi! Tell her to say hi to the panda bears for me!"

"Arthur!"

"Sorry, Skip."

"Sorry, Molly." Martin told her through the phone.

"It's fine." She laughed. "Tish is in the shower right now, but I'll tell her when she gets out." She could have heard Martin's mouth open and close, snapping shut.

"Well, I'll let him know." Martin let out. "I'll call you once we get to Adana." She felt her heart soar a bit. "That's alright, right?"

"Of course it is!" Ooo she sounded too eager. She didn't want to be desperate, but right now she thought it was too late. "I mean you can if you want. I won't be doing much. Sprained ankle and all."

"This must be your worse vacation." Molly burst out laughing at Martin's words.

"No not at all!" She laughed covering her mouth. "In fact you've made it the best time I've had in a long time!" Why was she saying that so loud? "Sorry, that sounds sad, doesn't it?"

"No, I'm really glad to cheer you up." He was absolutely fantastic.

"Have a safe flight, Captain Crieff." She breathed out.

"Will do, Miss Molly." Now when Martin called her Miss Molly it sounded incredibly endearing. She hated when the phone clicked off. Hated that she had to stare at the ceiling regretting that she couldn't see the cute baby panda in person or fly to Turkey right then and there.

It was the only time Molly Hooper had wished she had wings.


	4. Strange Not Strangers

**A/N: **To those of you have read so far I have NOT abandoned this story in the slightest. I've been busy with school and other fics, but I'm hoping to equally divide my time amongst what I have going on. I am going to change the rating to M for future chapters. For now enjoy awkward phone conversations.

**Chapter Four: Strange Not Strangers**

Tish was showing Molly the pandas. Some of them were blurred while others remained perfect little bundles of love. The mother panda had had a baby that was prematurely small. The story had blown up with ideas flooding the media that the baby might not make it through the first night. It caused quite a commotion. The prices for the pictures sky rocketed. Tish had some of the best first shots of the healthy happy end to the story.

"I've gotten calls." She sing songed poking at the one picture of the mother nuzzling her baby while a zoo keeper held the tiny fluff in her palms. Its pink tongue was licking the mother's nose. "Offers are high, Molly." The young woman was glad. She hoped someday Tish could get her dream of running a magazine herself. Maybe with this adorable bonding photo plus the money she claimed her husband was paying her she could very well be on her way.

A soft tune sounded with dapper tones of Frank Sinatra filled the room. The two sisters looked at each other wide eyed. Molly eyed her phone still on her dresser remaining nearly silent the past two days. She scrambled for it knowing it was Martin. She had programed the ringtone minutes after she had hung up the phone.

"Hi!" She sounded too desperate. "Sorry, let me start over." She cleared her throat. "This is Molly Hooper speaking, um, hello."

"Hello." His voice sounded small. "We're in Adana." A hissing noise sounded in the background.

"Are you alright?" She peered to Tish who was fiddling with her camera.

"Um, yes."

"Martin," She squeezed the phone to her ears feeling her heart quicken. "You don't sound alright. Please tell me. What happened?"

"Well," He took in a breath. "We took a bit of a . . . um . . . well – it's – it's nothing to worry about – no – not at all – just . . . well . . ." He paused a bit trying to find the words. "See about a month back a goose flew into our engine and then the engine caught on fire, had to make an emergency landing in St. Petersburg, but our one engine was . . . well it was gone and –"

"Martin," Molly held up her hand as if he was there. As if her hand could stay his words. "Please just tell me." She made a mental note of the story to ask more on it later. Right now there was the pressing matter of his constant swallowing and extra stutter in his voice. "Are you alright? Are you safe?" She saw Tish look up letting her eyes go wide. She went to open her mouth, but Molly put a finger to her own lips to show her she needed quiet.

"Well, we," He sighed loudly. "Had a bit of a snag. We landed safe before we noticed one of the landing tires is a bit faulty took some damage and well . . . we were trying to haggle with the airfield for a fix, then Douglas had to open his mouth and get them all . . . uncooperative," He nearly hissed out the last word. "And now," He sighed louder. "We're stuck her until . . . Thursday. The part is being flown in."

"Is Arthur okay?" Tish shouted suddenly nearly on top of her sister. "He didn't hurt himself." Her mouth was nearly on the phone.

"Tish." Molly shooed her sister.

"Is that Tish?" It was Arthur's voice. He sounded in an incredible mood. "Yes, yes! I'm alright! We're in Turkey, but there isn't any turkey here. Just lots of beans."

"Arthur! I'm talking to Molly." Martin said a bit riled up.

"Oh, right. Sorry, Skip. Sorry Molly."

"I've narrowed it down to a petting zoo in Bristol and the London Zoo." Tish scrambled for the mouthpiece. Molly shied away from her sister.

"Is Alexis coming with us?" Arthur went on bringing on a new sense of excitement.

"Arthur!" This time Molly and Martin said the word together. Tish stared at her sister for the moment smiling before she backed away.

"Sorry, I'll shut up now, bye Tish!" Arthur shouted into the phone.

"I'm," Martin began.

"No, I'm sorry." Molly chimed in. Tish started to get her stuff together. She pointed toward the door while Molly gave a small wave. "Actually it's not really either of our faults." She laughed as she heard the door shut tight behind her sister.

"No, I guess not." She could tell by the silence there was still something he wasn't telling her.

"Listen, Martin," She didn't want to say the next words, but she felt like she had to. "If you don't want to go out with me when you get back I'd completely understand." She would. Who would want to go to an air museum with a pathologist?

"It's definitely not that!" He insisted. "It's just," He paused for a moment. "Carolyn, my, my boss, booked us another job while we're here. To . . . um . . . to Beppu . . . it's . . . in Japan." Molly knew what that meant.

"Oh."

"So," She could almost feel his tension. "It's going be sometime until I get back. We'll have to hold off on Duxford."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry, Molly." He really did sound like he was. She had these sorts of things happen before. People cancelled dinners for bigger reasons then that, but it still didn't hurt any less. "I really am looking forward to seeing you after this flight. Carolyn promised a good solid weekend with no interruptions."

"Oh," She wasn't sure why her voice was abandoning her.

"Please don't be mad at me." Martin squeezed out. He paused for a moment before sighing. "I'll understand if you don't want to see me ever again."

"I just," Molly twisted her lips trying to decide if a lie or the truth was better. "Really, want," She wanted to say you. Hormonal teenage Molly wanted to say you. The truth. She really hadn't met anyone nice and handsome in a long time. Most of the blokes she met were psychopaths, which seemed to be her type. Martin was just very proper. Very handsome and proper.

"What? What is it Molly?"

"To see you again." Her toes on her feet curled. She winced due to her ankle still hurting.

"Really? So do I!" Martin sounded as cheerful as his steward in that moment.

"Yes, really, you're an amazing guy Martin." She really did think he was amazing. "Young captain. And you're a proper gentlemen. Not many of those around anymore. None you can count on."

"Yes." She heard the smile there.

"I don't care what we do," Molly let on. "As long as it's with you and it's soon." Molly recalled sometimes her father would do this same thing to her. He'd be late cause of a delay. She'd always have a pout on her face ready to scold him when he landed, but Glen Hooper always brought home a gift. Something, that made Molly smile and instantly forgive him.

"I'll do my best to honor your wishes, Miss Hooper." If he was standing in front of her he would have tipped his cap. She suspected he had done it anyway.

"How long can you talk for?" She asked with a smile.

"Um," He seemed to be mulling over the idea. "I think I can talk for a while. How is your trip?"

"Very good. Relaxing and watching bad TV. Bad American TV so it's painfully awful." Molly looked at the television she had shut off when the reality stars had been forced to jump into a pit of spiders for money. "Tish got some excellent pictures of the baby panda."

"Arthur was saying it was very small for a newborn. Is it alright?" She smiled at his concern.

"Yes, it's fine. Very cute." She leaned back looking to the ceiling feeling her eyes flutter closed a bit. "I like cute things. Especially fluffy animals."

"You, um," He cleared his throat a bit. "Like animals, then?"

"Very much," She thought of her pet then. "I've got a cat, Toby. Got him a few years back." Now she was missing her kitten.

"Oh, well, that's very nice."

"You don't like animals?" Molly wondered if she had found a flaw in this man. If this was his only flaw Molly would be excited. She could deal with this. "It's alright if you're not fond of them. They can be nasty and bity. That's why I didn't end up being a veterinarian – well – actually - that's not true. I sort of had a bit of a panic attack when we had to dissect a cat."

"A cat?" He gulped at the words.

"Yes," Molly shivered thinking about it. "It was awful. I had to leave the room. Never went back."

"Don't you, um," He hesitated a bit. "Don't you cut open dead people?"

"Oh yes," She almost laughed. "I don't know why, but I thought people were better to cut up then animals." She shook her head a bit realizing how that sounded. "Ugh, that makes me sound like a mad woman! I'd rather cut up people then animals. Well – actually – they're dead when I examine them."

"Do they um," Martin paused a bit lowering his voice. "Do autopsies on cats?"

"Well, I wouldn't think so, unless the cat died mysteriously." Molly admitted thinking the question odd, but then she realized he had completely ignored her madness to bring on some of his own madness. "I don't think they'd do a cat murder trail either. I mean not seriously. Oh now I'm thinking of little cat judges and cat lawyers with tiny wigs on." Molly giggled to herself thinking over the scene. She imagined the judge licking his paws and the lawyers –

"You're really adorable." Her heart did that thing again. She liked when it did that. Molly couldn't remember the last time a man had made her heart feel so fluttery. Well a man who actually seemed like an option rather than an aloof sociopath. "I mean –"

"Not bonkers? Or completely mad?" She wondered. "I just admitted that I prefer to do autopsies on dead people then try to save the life of a poor defenseless creature. Then again you just asked about . . . cat autopsies." Martin gave a half laugh.

"Well I don't think you're weird." Martin admitted. She heard him yawn between the sentences. "Ev-er-y-one is diff-er-ent." The words came out sporadic.

"Am I keeping you up?"

"Couldn't sleep." Martin told her.

"What time is it there?" There was silence on the other end. Molly looked at the time thinking over where exactly Martin was. She then realized it. "Oh God, Martin! Is it four in the morning?! Don't you have to get up soon?" She paused a bit. "Wait, what was Arthur doing up?"

"We've been waiting for the part to be delivered. They're flying it in. It isn't here yet. We've been taking shifts."

"Am I keeping you?" She repeated before feeling the question was stupid.

"You're um," Molly suddenly felt awful. "Keeping me awake, but that's a good thing!" He insisted with a cheerful tone. "So you wanted to help animals?"

"Yes," She squeaked out. "Ever since I was little. Always was fascinated with the body and all the parts to it. It's a bit like an aeroplane actually. All the pieces fitting together to get the job done. Well a body is like a lot of things, but I really do like animals. It's how Tish persuaded me to come along with her. Promised I'd see a baby panda." She nibbled her lip feeling she rambled. "D-d-did you always li-like aeroplanes, Martin?"

"Oh yes, always." Martin insisted. "I've always – well – not always, but for most of my life I wanted to be a pilot."

"And before that?"

"Before what?"

"What did you want to be before a pilot?" She was curious. Molly suddenly felt with the silence that she had said something wrong until he spoke up.

"Promise not to laugh?"

"Swear." Molly insisted leaning into the phone.

"I wanted to be an . . . aeroplane." She closed her eyes at the words holding back both smile and laugh. They were growing in their confidence of one another.

"Do you promise not to laugh at me?"

"Absolutely! I mean I won't laugh. Promise." The way he said the last word made Molly wish Martin was right in front of her. She'd never do it, but she would have liked to snog him a bit. Snog the promise from his lips.

"I wanted to be a . . . kitty. A pink kitty none the less." She remembered going around on all fours mewing and rubbing her face on people until she was six. Her dad used to pretend alongside her whenever Tish thought she was being too annoying. Sometimes the three of them would pretend to be one big happy kitty cat family.

"At least you wanted to be a living thing." Martin mused.

"Oh I always consider planes to be living." Molly admitted. "They've got all the organs, wiring, and warmth to be something. I know some planes have got personality too." She could remember planes from her youth that refused to work well with her father.

"GERTI certainly has a very big personality to her." Molly suspected that was the name of MJN's only plane. "Big girl with a strong head on her shoulders. Most people don't think of planes that way."

"Well I don't consider myself most people." Molly stated. "Remember? The girl who ran from a dead cat for the chance to slice open her dead neighbor." She heard Martin's light hearted laugh.

"I really wish I could see you." Martin pressed.

"No you don't," Molly mused looking down at her outfit. Tish had promised to take her to dinner now that she barely needed her crutches. She was wearing something old and tattered at the moment simply because it was comfortable. "I'm in jeans and this faded red sweater that," She pulled the collar up to sniff it. "Yup, pretty sure the cat piss hasn't washed away." She heard the chuckle in Martin's voice. "It's not funny! Do you know how many times I've washed this? Still stinks. Oh and there's this pukey colored green collared shirt under. It's pretty cold here." She paused for a moment thinking that was the most surreal thing version of 'what are you wearing' and it wasn't sexy in the slightest.

"I still think I'd prefer you to Douglas and Arthur." She felt a redness creeping in her cheeks.

"Well you haven't grown sick of me yet. Give it time. I'm not that much fun to be around." Why was she saying that? Molly hated that she'd sell herself short whenever she felt the awkwardness creeping up on her.

"I don't think that'll happen." He paused for a moment then went off. "Not because I'm not going to spend time with you. I want to spend time with you! But not lots and not because I don't want to spend lots. I do, but not too much. Just the right amount. Enough to make you not get sick of me either, 'cause I can be dull. Douglas says it all the time. Says I need a hobby. He said I needed a hobby in order to get girls. Do you . . . do you think I need a hobby?" Molly paused for a moment twisting her body.

"To get girls?" She felt her heart sink a bit.

"No, no, definitely not!" Martin piped in. "Not that I don't like girls. I love girls! I love women! But not too much. Just the right amount of love . . . and not love. Like. I like women fine. I just was wondering if I need a hobby. Do you . . . think I need to be more interesting?"

"You're plenty interesting to me." Molly admitted. "And any girl or woman who can't see that isn't really worth your time. Bet flying is better than any girl you could meet." She smiled feeling a kinship with him. Both their jobs took persistent over their social lives leaving the pair empty and alone.

"Well," He breathed out. "It is. Flying – well – is the best thing." She knew he would say it. It was how she felt whenever she figured out something new on her bodies. "Do you really think I'm interesting Molly?"

"Oh yes." He was interesting, funny, adorable, and very handsome. She didn't understand why he wasn't married with five kids already. "You're a young airdot captain employed on a small charter place flying about the world on adventures. You're like a pirate of the skies, except you don't steal things or attack other planes, which sounds actually exciting, but not as exciting . . . well – maybe a little more exciting then what you do." She laughed to herself. "And don't be ashamed you don't have a hobby. Mine is knitting and it's quite boring." She remembered the caps and scarves she had attempted to knit. "I'm not very good at it."

"I bet you're fantastic at it." Martin declared on a whim. "And my job is rather exciting."

"Well of course it is, silly." Molly flicked at her collar as she spoke. "Do you have a favorite place you like to fly?"

"Oh, um," She could hear him thinking. He hummed a bit when he thought. Molly thought it was rather endearing. "Well we flew to Hawaii last Christmas."

"Oh that sounds fantastic!" Molly remembered a trip she had taken with Tish to the Virgin Islands before she had gotten married. She had burned so heavily that she had to sit in the room most of the time. "I mean I love the snow and the cold, but it can be a good change of pace to be in the sand. Oh and swimming, though I never really like going to the ocean." From a young age Molly had always found herself uncomfortable being half naked in public.

"I just sat on the beach and read most of the time we were there. Enjoying the sun."

"In your swim trunks?" She wondered it aloud instead of in her head. Molly immediately put her hand to her mouth widening her eyes. She tried to listen to hear if Martin was bursting out laughing. Instead she heard him stutter.

"Erm, um, well – yes – I was in them – in them most of the – um – time. On the beach that is. Reading! Just so I could get a – um – tan." She could imagine the scenario, Martin bare chested reading on a lounge chair, aviators on naturally.

"Do you wear aviators?" The comfort level was broadening with Martin. "I mean being a pilot and all. Do you?" Now it sounded like she was recounting some girl hood fantasy. Truthfully Molly had only thought of pilots as fatherly figures rather than sexy potential lovers – um – boyfriends – friends. At the moment she was only Martin's slightly awkward friend who just happened to be a girl.

"Oh well I was wearing them during that trip, it being quite sunny." He paused for a moment.

"Oh."

"Do you um," He stuttered trying to spit out the rest of his sentence. "Like aviators, Molly?" She could hear the breathlessness in his tone. She felt her heart quicken.

"I do. And," She took a breath. She was going to say it. "Ilikeyourhat." It came out garbled. She wondered if Martin even could make it out.

"Thank you!" He seemed to answer fairly quickly and cheerfully. "I like my hat too! Not the standard issued captain hat –"

"I know."

"Oh," He seemed a bit disappointed. "Right, you would know."

"I like yours better than the standard ones." Because it's on your lovely head. She didn't finish it that way. Not now. She had already told him too much of what she liked. "It's more colorful."

"Well, actually – um – it's –" Oh no! Now he had thought she had insulted him!

"I didn't mean it in a bad way, Martin." She grabbed the phone as if to shake it. "It's just – well – it just looks . . . rather nice." She stopped herself before mentioning another word about it, though she promptly put her foot in her mouth with the next sentence. "Are you wearing it now?" Her eyes went wide and she shivered at her boldness.

"Um, no." Martin hesitated before speaking again. "D-d-do you want me to?" She heard a bit of a scuffle. "I was laying down, but I think I can manage to find it." He had been in bed. Of course. It was four in the morning there. Then thoughts crossed Molly's mind of what Martin Crieff wore to bed.

"You don't have to. I was just being –"

"On my head." He sing songed. She could almost feel the heaviness of the hat land on him.

"Oh – well – I can't see you, but," She closed her eyes imagining it. Molly couldn't picture the pajamas. "I imagine you look rather dashing."

"Oh not really I'm in pjs with little blue airplanes on them." She heard the freeze in his voice. "Oh – no wait – I didn't – I really –"

"That's fantastically adorable Martin!"

"No, it's not. Oh with the meatballs and the airplane pajamas I must seem like a six year old!" She giggled a bit. "It's not funny! Now I feel ridiculous." She heard him shuffle a bit.

"Martin Crieff! DO NOT TAKE THAT HAT OFF! " She declared it too loudly for her own good.

"But –"

"No, I like the hat."

"You can't even see it." He whined. Even when Martin whined it sounded inviting.

"I have a very good imagination. Besides I told you that I was wearing a smelly sweater, so now you have to tell me what you're wearing." Oh if someone heard this conversation right now they would be very put off.

"I'm," Molly wondered why he paused. "I'm," She heard him swallow. "Blue airplane pajamas. Matching long bottoms and top, but um," She heard him squirm. "I can't."

"Can't what?" She felt bad now. She was making him uncomfortable. "You don't have to. It's fine, forget it. I just was . . . well . . . I don't know. I'm being so strange right now. I've been stuck in this room for days with just the TV as company. I've gone a bit mad I suppose."

"No, it's just," He breathed out a bit. "I have this – um – tendency of getting hot in my sleep and – well – it seems," He swallowed. "That I have misplaced the matching top." Molly stared for a moment letting the words sink in.

Those words meant Martin was topless in that moment.

"Oh."

"I sound rather perverse now don't I?"

"Not at all. I like that." She soundly found herself back tracking. "Erm, what I mean is that I like that you're being honest with me. It's good to be honest with people! I don't like it when people lie or sort of dance around the truth. You do that sometimes, but you always catch yourself. You are quite lovely at that! Fantastic! And I think what you're wearing or not wearing is rather . . . yes – well – good – nice – you're good. I like the hat too."

She waited for what seemed like forever for the captain to respond.

"I wish I could see you right now." The smile and longing was there. "I love flying, but you make me want to, well . . . forget about Bennpu and whisk you away to Duxford."

"Oh, I'd like that, but you should do your job."

"Right, job." She was curious why he said it that way ready to open her mouth when the door was heard opening through the phone.

"Martin we're ready to – Oh dear Lord." Douglas' mumbled voice was heard as it faded into shock.

"This is not what it looks like!" Martin declared.

"Oh really?" Douglas seemed to say. "Because it looks like you're in your pjs at nearly five in the morning bare chested with your captain's hat on and oh I see you're on the phone. No doubt with the lovely Miss Hooper."

"H-h-how did you know I was talking to Molly?" Martin muttered.

"Well . . ." Douglas seemed to suggest the answer before Martin seemed to rush his voice.

"Oh God," Martin shuffled. "Douglas leave!"

"The part's come in." Were the last words that came out of Douglas' mouth before he was gone. Martin shuffled with the phone muttering to himself.

"Oh hi, yes, Molly?" Martin asked quickly. "Did you –" He cleared his throat. "Hear any of that?"

"All, yes." She could almost see Martin's horrified look.

"D-d-douglas was just b-b-being rude. He was just being . . . it wasn't – true." Molly knew the suggestive tone in Douglas' mind. She wasn't a prude. Molly was aware men had aspects of their bodies that seemed to awaken fairly early in the morning.

"It wasn't?" Molly asked deciding to be cute. "Well that's rather disappointing."

"Is it?" He seemed to swallow and stutter in surprise.

"A bit. If it's not true. But it doesn't really matter does it. We can forget Douglas ever came into the room."

"Believe me I wish he didn't." They had been having a lovely conversation before it suddenly turned sexual. Though it made Molly get a bit hot to think that Martin may have been a bit turned on by thoughts of her.

"We were talking about Duxford." She reminded him.

"Right, yes, Duxford." He recalled. "I'm taking you there on our date. Wait! No! It's just an outing not a –"

"Date?" She bit her lip taking a deep breath before she decided to ask him. "It could be."

"Could be what?"

"A date. It could be a date!" Clearly she was interested in him. And now that Molly knew that he at the very least was attracted to her she could feel confident in asking. "I mean I'd understand if you don't want it to –"

"I'd like to date you." Martin put in. "I mean – what I mean to say is that I'd like to go on this one date with you."

"And who knows it might go as well as the apology wine." She grinned as she heard his airy laugh.

"Yes, that did go rather well despite ourselves." She felt herself squirm in anticipation.

"Perhaps we can get dinner afterwards?"

"Yes, there's a ro-" He stopped himself trying to regain another word for the place, but instead he chose to continue with the word as planned. "Romantic restaurant close by."

"I like romance." Molly told her date. "I think this is sounding better than this trip."

"Certainly better than Bennpu." He grinned on the phone.

"Well I'll leave you to your crew."

"I don't want you to." He whined a bit. "I'd really like to spend some more time on the phone, but – yes – you're right. We need to head off."

"Ah the sooner you go, the closer to Duxford." Molly concluded.

"Of course, yes, closer to showing you a good time." She was surprised he didn't correct himself. "Well, have a very pleasant day Miss Hooper. I'll let you know when I'm back in Fitton. Won't bother you until then."

"Of course. Fly safely Captain Crieff." Molly heard the muffled excitement in Martin's voice before he mumbled a quick goodbye and hung up.

She relaxed against the bed feeling almost satisfied by the talk. Molly wondered if this was all going too fast. Most of her relationships had gone fast and burned out rather quickly. Martin wasn't exactly a relationship though. Not yet, though she suspected with their awkwardness and chemistry they'd be together romantically at some point, unless Martin changed his mind. Molly had yet to think anything bad about the captain.

He just simply felt perfect for her.


End file.
